Who Would you Give your Moment To?
by Hugo V
Summary: Out of place and out of touch, Max finds herself at a Vortex Club party, and is spotted by none other than an inebriated Victoria Chase (*potential to grow, romance, CHASEFIELD/PRICEFIELD*)
1. Down the Drain

**My addition to the growing Life is Strange archive, one I enjoy perusing often.**

 **I do not own Life is Strange, nor any of its Affiliates**

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Throngs of half-lit, darkened, half-lit, darkened dancers - some of whom Max recognized as her more popular classmates - moved and pulsated in time to the steady beat of trap music. It was hardly the kind of genre the young 'hipster' enjoyed listening to, but thought it appropriate given the circumstances; she briefly entertained the idea of Bright Eyes playing in the loud, undulating pool auditorium, and smiled at the errant thought.

So this was the Vortex Club.

She had held a certain image of it in her mind: large, sweaty boys and scarcely dressed, sweaty girls, more sweat, an air of impending regret. The viral video taken of Kate Marsh's sexual promiscuity flashed fleeting across Max's mind, and she cringed. Knowing everything that happened, she could guess that at least two or more people in the crowd had been privy to the filming - had let it happen. Disdain for no one in particular weighed heavy in Max's chest as she glanced around the room once, twice, three times, looking and finding no one she truly knew.

Why had she come? Remembering back to her and Chloe's late night pool session, the memory of the clipboard came back to her, how she penned in her own name while expunging several others. The reason behind her actions was unclear to her. Did she truly _want_ to be here? Derisive among strangers and entirely underdressed? With a small sense of foreboding, she scanned her unimpressive blue jeans and pink doe shirt, emblazoned with the word Jane, then to the young women around her. Max looked as out of place as she felt.

Turning to leave, her eyes traced the poster on the blue-tiled wall: End of the World Party, it read, and Max guffawed at just how right it was. She thought back, in the grim silence of her mind, to the inescapable grey tornado, and how it loomed over the comparatively insignificant light house. A doomed resignation suffused her, only strengthened by her contempt for the unwitting young dancers around her. Max saw the twin doors leading outside and began heading in that direction, content to call it a night.

Her curiosity was thoroughly satisfied.

"Well, if it isn't the _selfie hoe_ of Blackwell," someone behind her said, and immediately Max was familiar with the taste of that venom. The snake it belonged to sidled up beside her, furrowing her perfect brow in distaste. "What are you doing here, Caulfield?" Victoria Chase slurred. In her hand was an empty red solo cup.

"I was just about to leave, so…" Max shouldered her way past the blonde, only to be stopped again as Victoria slid in front of her, blocking her way to the exit. Caught unawares by the sudden movement, Max nearly slipped on the wet floor. Victoria bared her teeth in a cattish grin, indulging her prey a few seconds of relief before she spoke up again:

"I said, what are you doing here? Who put you on the guest list?"

Max recalled the similar confusion shared by the bouncer upon her entrance as she replied, "I don't know, but they let me in. Just do whatever you want Victoria, I'm going. Don't let me stop you from having an awesome night." Her confidence was slipping, and she knew that if the confrontation were to continue, tears would come unbidden to her big blue eyes.

"What a fucking mystery. I bet you blew the bouncer," Victoria laughed, crossing her arms, placing all her weight on one leg. She wore quite the revealing bathing suit, most of her upper and lower body bared to the world. It was black with gold sequins, and looked expensive. Max recoiled at the comment, disgusted by the accusation. "Listen, you're coming with me." Victoria grasped Max's wrist, her grip firm and unyielding despite the other girl's protestations. "Come on, don't," hiccup, "make this harder than it needs to be."

Max wondered what fresh hell Victoria was planning to subject her to, what new embarrassment; would she be humiliated like Kate Marsh? Suddenly, Max was thankful that she had rejected all the drinks offered her. Undrugged and unhappy, she was dragged along behind Victoria as she made her way past several inquisitive onlookers. Only when they had made it to the doorway did Max realize where she was being taken: the girl's locker room.

"Why are we going in here?"

"To talk," Victoria replied, more civil than Max had expected. The tension in her chest eased as they passed several rows of lockers, then came to a stop by a graffitied wall. Victoria steeled herself with a deep breath, and said, "Listen, I'm not the worst enemy you have out there. You're lucky I found you first. If it had been," hiccup, "Nathan fucking Prescott, you'd be as good as done." Victoria's expression was surprisingly soft; maybe alcohol had a mollifying effect on her, Max thought.

"I guess I should thank you," she replied, her words belying how she truly felt. Regardless of whether or not Victoria was trying to 'help' her, she didn't appreciate the title 'Selfie Hoe of Blackwell', and thought to mention it before Victoria interrupted her thoughts.

"You know, if you wanted to join the Vortex Club, you could've," a small belch escaped her lips, "asked me. I would've said no, but it'd be better than you sneaking around. Did you really expect to not crash into me here, I practically run this place," Victoria finished, her blue eyes unfocused. She wavered slightly. Taking the initiative, Max helped her down onto a bench, sitting down beside her. "I think I might have had too much to drink. Eggnog and fireball whisky is an awful fucking combination - you can't even taste the alcohol. And who drinks eggnog outside the winter months? Seriously," Victoria smiled, and Max soon found herself smiling as well.

"Do you think you're going to be sick?" she queried. The toilets were only a short walk away, and Max didn't want her clothes getting ruined; beyond that, she considered Victoria something of a friend, if you stretched that word to the moon and back. The blonde shook her head; it was a slow, groggy motion.

"I know my limits."

Suddenly Victoria turned herself and glanced up at Max, and it was only now that the younger girl realized how close their faces had gotten. A spear of heat shot through Max from her stomach upwards, settling in her cheeks. She flushed a deep red, and even in the dimmed lighting, Victoria noted the change with another cattish grin. Had Victoria always been so damn attractive? She was popular, and it came with the territory, but Max had never noticed the nuances of her features: her heart-shaped lips, trimmed eyebrows and high cheekbones made her appear almost fairy like.

"I'm so drunk," Victoria slurred, as though it were some veiled invitation. Max felt her stomach flip, as though she were just on the edge of doing something rash and unthinkable, moments away from making a split second decision based on nothing but instinct and desire. Victoria's gaze made a lazy trail upwards as she inspected Max's outfit, ending on the younger girl's pursed lips; their hands were touching.

Though she lacked grace, Victoria leaned in, her eyelids fluttering closed. Max immediately retreated; the look on the other girl's face as she opened her eyes felt like a knife to her gut, but she knew that if she wasn't strong now, she'd lose her integrity.

"You don't get to be mean to me, and then… and then…" Max stammered, shaking her head. Victoria's clouded expression read shame and vulnerability. "... and then try to… _kiss_ me." The blonde turned away, facing the empty locker room. Outside, the dulled din of music and conversation seemed louder somehow, as if to occupy the sudden uncomfortable silence. Max considered rewinding, to accept Victoria's advances, but thought better of it. It wasn't too late to salvage the situation. "Ever since we met you've had it out for me, and I don't know why. I've only ever been kind to you, and you walked all over that kindness without remorse. Did you ever once think how it felt? To be called names? To be rejected by someone you wanted as a friend? Regardless of how you treated me, I care about you Victoria. Maybe you shouldn't have tried to take advantage of that just now."

More silence, and that same tension again. Without warning, Victoria's shoulders began to shake with quiet sobs. Max's heart twinged, and she placed a hand on her downturned chin; with gentle pressure, she brought Victoria to face her again. Tears ran down her cheeks in steady rivulets, gathering at Max's fingers. She sighed.

"That doesn't mean that I don't want you," Max continued, a bit frightened at her own words. Victoria's frown gave slightly as she met the other girl's eyes. Gathering her courage, Max captured Victoria's mouth in her own, opening her firm, wet lips; her inexperience was clear, but Victoria was more than receptive. The blonde cupped Max's cheek tenderly, tilting her head to better connect with the younger girl. As the kiss ended, pendulating, Victoria moved for another, and then another. She tasted sickly sweet with hints of bitter alcohol, but Max decided that it was a good taste. Though her first kiss belonged to Chloe, this one was better, deeper, more passionate.

Victoria moaned into Max's mouth, grabbing her by the waist to pull her closer. Their chests met, dual heartbeats in rhythmic tandem. The kiss continued, Victoria grew bolder, Max refused to shy away as her partner's tongue darted out to meet her own. Their teeth bumped together, enamel scraping enamel, and a small laugh was shared between them. As Victoria drew back, her tears were gone, expression brightened by a wide smile.

"You fucking lesbian," she chided.

Though they were far from friends, Max knew deep inside herself that there was potential, and room to grow. She hoped Victoria would grow with her.

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 **Thanks for reading! All reviews are very, very appreciated ;)**


	2. Claimed

**Another chapter, with probably more to come**

 **I do not own Life is Strange, nor any of its Affiliates**

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It was as though the storm between Max and Victoria had finally dispersed; there was no threat of rain, nor sleet or hail, only the rare comment in passing (and even those seemed more good-natured). Taylor had noticed, though she hadn't said anything. She still viewed Max with a sort of muted disdain, but no longer did she humor Victoria with her own disparaging remarks. Some of Blackwell's more popular students had even acknowledged the flighty 'hipster' with transient _Hellos_ and _Yo's_ as she left the girls' dormitory on a fresh Wednesday morning.

 _Everything's coming up Millhouse,_ Max thought as she made her way towards the academy proper. She passed Kate with a polite, "Good morning," and the blonde gave a nice, christianly smile and returned the greeting. The ground beneath Max's pendulating feet seemed softer somehow, and she felt open and pleasant as the clear blue sky above. Her thoughts roamed from Chloe's distant troubles, to Warren's most recent, persistent advances, before settling on the night she had shared with Victoria Chase.

Discounting the peck she landed on Chloe, the kiss she shared with Victoria had been her first real foray into discovering more about her sexuality. She imagined Warren in Victoria's position, and shuddered a bit at the prospect; never had she entertained, even in passing, _that_ romantic avenue. But the cat had been leased from the metaphorical bag, and Max Caulfield knew that she would have to do some serious self-exploration in the days and weeks to come.

As Max rounded the corner, she found herself, unexpectedly, looking at the back of Victoria Chase's head as the older girl made her way toward her early classes; she was, perhaps, twenty to thirty feet away, coffee in hand as she moved along, unwitting of Max's voyeuristic presence. With some hesitation, Max's eyes shifted from her classmate's hair, to her shoulders, to her back, to her hips, watching the space between them with something approaching mild interest. She hadn't had an opportunity to really have a heart-to-heart with Victoria since the night of the Vortex Club party; did she consider it to be a drunken mistake? Or was she attracted to Max, something she had hidden that came to light when her inhibitions were loosened. It was all so confusing. Nursing a small headache, Max decided to file the question away for later inspection.

"Hey, Victoria!" the words came unbidden before Max had even thought to say them. Victoria rotated in place, walking backwards. Her features from such a distance were unreadable, but Max thought she read hints of _something_ before the blonde brought her coffee cup to her heart-shaped lips. A bit surprisingly, she stopped in place. Max had half-expected her to turn and continue walking, but she was pleased she hadn't. Bridging the gap between them, Max arrived, finally, in front of the older girl, and removed her camera from her bag. Leveling it with her face, she took a picture of Victoria's displeased expression.

"Shouldn't you be aiming that at yourself?" she snidely remarked. "Anyway, don't jill yourself too much to that picture, wouldn't want it getting soggy." Her hand found her hip as she balanced her weight on one leg, casting an expectant look at Max who blanched at the comment, blinking.

"Good to see you too," Max replied, "You look nice."

And she did, wearing a crimson sweater vest, pinstripe red dress shirt, tight khakis, and a pearl necklace. She was better dressed than Max, who donned a grey hoodie overtop a light blue shirt emblazoned with three small chicklets. Max shook the polaroid in her hand, waiting for it to develop. When the colors coagulated and the picture corporealized, Victoria sidled up to Max, looking over her shoulder. She could feel the blonde's breath on her neck; it was a nice sensation, one that Max savoured. For just a moment too long, they stood like that, neither daring to speak. And then Victoria broke the silence as she moved away.

"There's something I wanted to talk to you about."

Max felt heat rise to her cheeks, dusted with the softest shade of pink.

"You know the project Mr. Jefferson assigned us? The one about capturing an aspect of another person? Well, you know how he has that creepy innocence fetish right? - how he's always going on and on about capturing vulnerability in its purest form, and all that? Well, taking into consideration all the blown up pics of his scattered around campus - you know, the ones with _vulnerable_ girls in various states of undress - I thought I'd do something similar. And count yourself fucking honored, because I want to do you," Victoria stammered, "Ph-photograph you."

"You want to take pictures of me?"

"Then we can count ourselves even, seeing that you snapped that non consensual pic of me earlier. Just say yes, selfie hoe, maybe you can take pictures of me too if you can think up an aspect you'd like me to realize."

Max had played with the idea of doing Mr. Jefferson's project with Victoria, but now that the opportunity had fallen straight into her lap - to not only complete said project, but have time alone with the other girl - she knew her answer was a resounding:

"Absolutely."

"I knew you'd say yes. Meet me after class, at around, say, four o'clock? In my dorm, not yours. If your dress sense is anything to go by, your room must be a mess. Later," Victoria said, a cattish smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. And just like that, she was gone, walking off in the direction of Blackwell's main buildings. Max did a silent fist pump, grinning wildly at nothing in particular.

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Max's classes felt their agonizing length, each passing one after the other as the clock approached four o'clock. She knew that glancing at its hands would only serve to slow them but she couldn't help herself: she was just too damn excited. It surprised her slightly; despite Victoria's inherent disrespect for her, she wanted to hear the other girl's voice again. Now that she knew that the blonde's attitude towards her was just a defense mechanism (or so she believed), Max contented herself with letting the comments slide.

The final class let out with a chiming bell, as students made their way single and double file through the open door. Max gathered her things and left down the hallway, a spring in her sprightly step. She wondered, briefly, what aspect she should have Victoria display. Disgust immediately came to mind, but she considered it rude to bring up. Surprise, perhaps? Or anger? Anger seemed befitting the blonde.

As Max cut a swathe across campus, she spotted Warren out of the corner of her eye; he simultaneously noticed her. With an inward groan, she continued to walk, disregarding his approach. It was only when he chimed a spirited "Maxine!" did she give him any attention at all, still walking. "Hey Max, how'd your day go?" The question was simple enough to warrant a simple answer:

"It went well, how about yours?"

"My day was tops. Hey, I actually wanted to talk to you about something. I downloaded a whole bunch of spaghetti westerns, the Clint Eastwood collection: really solid stuff. Ennio Morricone is a great conductor. Anyway, I wanted to know if you'd like the USB? And if you'd maybe," Warren laughed, "Want to watch one with me? Are you busy tonight?"

It was all Max could do from not scowling, but she replied, "I actually am doing something, sorry. I'm working on a project for photography class with Victoria."

"- Chase? That Victoria?"

"That Victoria."

Warren seemed more than a bit taken aback, but eventually conceded with a nod. He gave a half-hearted, "Later," and walked in his own direction, leaving Max to enjoy his absence as she continued towards the girl's dormitory. She entered, went up the stairwell, and out into the hallway; it was empty, save for herself. Max turned towards her room, noting her marked whiteboard, which read: "Don't forget: 4 o'clock." She smiled a bit, opening her door. Victoria was right, the inside of her room was a mess. Regardless, she found and changed into a thin white tank top and grey sweatpants: her evening attire.

The clock on her bedside table blinked out 3:54 as she went out into the hallway again, walking a bit before arriving at Victoria's room. She leveled her closed fist to her chest, went to knock, and stopped. Wary over her own hesitation, her mind began to wander anew. Was this project Victoria's way of getting them alone together? Or was it without motive? Steeling her resolve, Max knocked twice, _knock knock_ , and waited.

A moment passed sheepishly by, and just as Max was about to knock again, the door swung softly open to reveal Victoria; she had ditched her sweater vest and necklace, and had unbuttoned the top three buttons of her dress shirt, its sleeves rolled back to reveal a silver bracelet. She scanned Max from top to bottom, before she stated:

"You look adequate. Come in."

Max could take 'adequate', and obliged Victoria, entering her room; it was exactly as she remembered it being: clean, and all the more spacious for it. Mykonos by the Fleet Foxes played over an unseen stereo, and Max fondly followed the words, humming. _And you will go to Mykonos, with a vision of a gentle coast, and a sun to maybe dissipate, shadows of the mess you made._ It created a relaxed atmosphere Max could appreciate.

"So, uh, how was your day?" Victoria began. Max guessed that she wasn't fond of smalltalk, and received confirmation. "Actually nevermind, let's just get to work. The aspect of you I'd like to capture is your innocence, though you may have already guessed as much. There's something pure about you, like you're still a little girl and not yet a woman, no offense."

Max had never imagined Victoria would say the words, "No offense."

"I want to take a picture of you on the bed and-"

"Hold up, before we begin, I want to hear you say that you have no intentions of blackmailing me with any of the pictures you're about to take," Max interjected. "They're solely for the project we're working on, and nothing else." The thought had occurred to her that Victoria planned to use the picture's she'd take as some brand of leverage, and was not about to continue without verbal confirmation to the contrary.

"I solemnly swear that I'm not up to no good."

"That's all I wanted to hear," Max replied, smiling.

"Now get on the bed." Victoria paused, "Actually…" Moving toward the bed itself, she pushed up the pillows and tore back the comforter, revealing the sheets beneath. "If you wouldn't mind getting underneath, that'd be super. I want a, 'just-woke-up' kind of look to the shot, like you're disconnected from the rest of the world."

Max humored Victoria, appealing to the blonde as she sat on her bed and lifted her feet, digging them beneath the sheets, which she pulled up against her midriff. Victoria moved forward, catching Max off guard as she ran a hand through the younger girl's brown hair to muss it up. Wanting to help her 'friend' reach her artistic vision, Max complied, ever so slightly pressing herself against Victoria's open palm. Her hand lingered a moment, then was withdrawn and placed on the body of an expensive looking digital camera.

With one fluid movement, Victoria raised said camera, and _SNAP,_ a flash of light illuminated Max's face. She briefly wondered why Victoria hadn't taken more time to frame the shot. Maybe that wasn't her style of doing things? The blonde sighed, shaking her head, then said in a displeased tone of voice:

"No, that's not good enough. Turn that way," Victoria prompted, motioning towards the closed door. Max did as she was bid, turning 'that way'. "Good." Another _SNAP,_ then another. _SNAP SNAP._ "You're pretty photogenic Max, I can see why you love the selfie so much." _SNAP._ "But there's something missing. Something important. And I know exactly what it is." Victoria knelt on the side of the bed, letting her camera fall to her side as she pinched the strap of Max's tank top, drawing it down to lay limp over her bare shoulder. Victoria righted herself, then took one last photograph. _SNAP._

"You're blushing," Victoria grinned.

" _You're_ blushing," Max replied, avoiding the blonde's gaze. Victoria sat on the bed beside Max, taking the tank top strap between her fingers. Instead of replacing it on her shoulder, she played with the fabric between her fingers. Max studied the wall, her blush blooming. A Bright Eyes song, Poison Oak, began to play. "You have good taste in music," Max was planning to say, before she felt a pair of lips against the crook of her bared neck. The words turned to a sigh in her mouth, the sensation alarming and oh so… so… _right._

Victoria nipped and bit, breathed her hot breath against Max's pale skin. She planted tender kisses down to her shoulder, then returned to her neck again, focusing her ministrations on one tender area. Max turned her head, wanting the moment to be trapped in amber, forever. The sensation of Victoria tugging at her body - the feel of her incisors drawing small pink trails - was too good to last as she pulled away, grinning.

"You really are innocent," Victoria whispered, taking Max's chin and, very softly, pulling it right, to face her. Max's blue eyes met Victoria's as the latter leaned forwards, not quite kissing her. They were millimeters away, savoring each other's exhalations. Victoria reached up, running a hand through Max's hair again, before clenching her fist and pulling back. Max gasped as Victoria buried herself in Max's neck again, biting just hard enough to elicit another, more ragged, gasp.

"Ah!" Max yelped, half in pain, half in pleasure. Victoria withdrew.

"To mark you as my property," she explained.

Max felt the place Victoria had bitten, right over her pulse point. She had no doubt the spot would turn red and bruise purple, leaving a terrible hickey. For once, using her rewind powers didn't occur to her at all. She inwardly cursed Victoria, than outwardly cursed her, or was going to until her lips were otherwise occupied by the blonde's. Victoria withdrew once more and - a lessening thread of saliva between them - shoved Max backwards as she climbed on top of the younger girl.

"Let's make one thing clear, Max. You're mine. If I see you getting too friendly with that blue-haired druggie what's-her-name, I'll leave more than just a mark next time."

Max could tell by her tone that she meant it. A thrill ran up her spine and she quivered beneath Victoria, giving an imperceptible nod. She hadn't expected the blonde to be so possessive, but she decided that she kind of liked it. Submission came easily to Max, and dominance to Victoria. Their sexual compatibility thrummed, electric between them. Victoria dismounted Max, then pointed to the door.

"Now get the fuck out of my room."

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 **Hope you enjoyed this last chapter! There's more to come! Reviews are very, very appreciated ;)**


	3. Other Options

**Not sure how long this story's going to be, but I'm averaging a chapter a day, so it should be done soon**

 **I do not own Life is Strange nor any of its Affiliates**

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Chloe ran a hand through her messy blue hair, replacing the beanie on her nodding head. The light through the window of her truck seemed refracted to Max, the evening sun glinting gold across the dashboard and passenger seat as they passed tree after tree after tree. She couldn't identify the singer, and she wasn't overly fond of the song, but radio rights rested with Chloe, the driver, who seemed to be enjoying herself.

"Yo, I've got something to show you once we get up to the lighthouse," Chloe said, a small grin on her face as she tugged at her beanie again. "I swear I've got fleas or something, I'm mad itchy today," she trailed off, scratching at her scalp with the tips of her blue nails. Max wasn't feeling too talkative, but spoke up regardless.

"Don't give them to me," she joked, "Aren't fleas contagious?"

"Insects aren't contagious Max," Chloe replied, smiling.

"You know what I mean, loser. It's how the plague was spread. I swear, if you give me the plague I'm going to kill you," Max laughed,

"Not before the plague does."

A minute later they arrived at the long, winding trail that led to the lighthouse proper. Parking the truck by the side of the road, both girls exited and stretched their legs. Chloe raised her arms above her head with a quiet, "I'm exhausted," and began to make her way up the dirt path, Max following close behind. Tall pine trees loomed above them, adding their shadows to those cast by the dying day's light. A perfumed breeze brought earthy scents that mingled with the aroma of the coastline's salt.

A few moments later, they arrived at the bench, the lighthouse beside it standing tall and, Max pondered, a bit ominous. It was a fitting parallel to herself in a way: something meant to warn, to keep safe. She was drawn from her thoughts by Chloe, who had sat down on the bench with a small sigh.

"Take a seat Mad Max, and check it out," Chloe said as Max obliged, sitting beside the older girl. She withdrew a large red vaporizer from her bag, holding it up for Max's inspection. "I've named it Iron Man's Dick." Max couldn't help but laugh, taking it from Chloe's hand and pressing the small button on its shaft; she drew from its tip, leasing a thick milk cloud of white smoke that dissipated in the warm evening air. Fighting to not cough, she instead said:

"I can't pin down the flavor? What kind of juice did you get?"

"It's called thug juice, a combination of grape, watermelon, and… Max, what the fuck is that?" Chloe suddenly exclaimed, and Max looked left and right, attempting to find just what it was she was referring to. Without warning, Chloe took Max's chin and turned it with more than a little force, baring her neck. "Oh my god, I can't fucking believe my eyes. Does Maxine Caulfield have a _hickey_!?"

Max had done all she realistically could to cover said hickey; she had heavily applied a light beige concealer, but if the shocked look on Chloe's face was anything to go by, it hadn't been nearly enough. The punk girl's jaw hung open, her eyes wide with disbelief. She pulled down her beanie over her forehead, half groaning, half laughing.

"Please don't tell me Warren did this to you," Chloe pleaded, lifting her beanie.

"It wasn't Warren."

"Was it one of those Vortex Club jerk-offs?"

"Not exactly."

"Was it someone I know?" Chloe asked, but Max shook her head and refused to answer. "So it's somebody I know. I can't believe this, I refuse to believe this," Chloe laughed, but it sounded weak and disheartened. "You have to tell me. We're best friends, it's practically law."

"You have to promise not to freak out," Max began, biting her lip. She stared off into the distance, at the faraway town and dock, its boats dipping in the waves. It was a beautiful day to die, Max thought, as she finally said, "Victoria gave it to me."

The birdsong stopped, the clouds halted in place, the wind died down, and everything was very, very still. Max didn't dare look at Chloe's expression, but if she had she would've seen a mix of surprise, horror, and hurt. A moment passed sheepishly by; then another, and another, all in tense noiselessness. At long last, Chloe exhaled, sounding sad and resigned.

"Listen, we can talk about this later," she said, "Right now I think it's way more important to get you properly covered up. You're coming back to my place."

* * *

The car ride to Chloe's house was made in silence. As they passed through Arcadia Bay, Max was frightened of the inevitable conversation to come. Just how angry was Chloe? She had never seen her friend past the point of words like this, hiding in her own head without sign or symbol. If her body language was anything to go by (lack of eye contact, legs turned away, dismissive air) Max had more than a little explaining to do.

She wondered how she could possibly make amends. On one hand she had expected Chloe to react the way she did; on the other, things seemed to go deeper. She expected an argument at the very least, and had prepared to defend herself. When no argument came, she felt exposed, as though she had admitted her own wrongdoing by taking the defensive. When Victoria had come on to her, Chloe had never passed her mind. Now, days afterward, Chloe was all she could think about. Max considered turning on the radio, but thought better of it.

The rest of the trip was made in a veritable vacuum. When they arrived at Chloe's house, David was nowhere to be seen. For that, Max was grateful; she didn't think she'd be able to put up with his nosiness today. Chloe and Max made their way up the stairs, and into Chloe's room. She pulled a box from her closet, then went to the bathroom before returning with beige concealer and a tissue. From the box she pulled white eyeliner. When Max looked into Chloe's moist eyes, she felt a pang of regret; it was clear the older girl wasn't taking things well.

"Sit down on the bed," she instructed, and Max felt a sudden sense of deja vu. Had Victoria not wanted the same of her not more than a day ago? A heat grew in Max's stomach, and spread throughout her limbs. "You clearly have no idea how to cover yourself up - you did a hella bad job, Caulfield." Chloe had only ever used Max's last name when she was bitter, she knew. This was one of those times, it would seem.

Chloe wet the tissue against her tongue and placed it on Max's neck, dabbing, wiping the area clean of makeup; it came away browned. "You have to put on white eyeshadow before you put on the concealer itself, fucktard." Chloe frowned, pulling the shadow from its bottle before applying it to the now visible bruise. "Y'know, I have no idea what you see in Bitchtoria. She's an awful person to everyone she meets, including you, including me. She's mean, and cruel - don't you remember that she almost drove Kate to suicide?"

Max cringed at the memory of Victoria writing the link to Kate's video on the mirror in the women's restroom, and the way she called her a "viral slut". The vile way she laughed, and chided, and spat insults came back to Max's mind in a veritable torrent of shame.

"Just because she get's everything she wants doesn't mean she should get you too," Chloe began, waiting for the eyeshadow to dry. She blew on the spot, her hot breath sending shivers up Max's spine. "You know that you have other options, right? And I'm not talking about that nerd, Warren." More silence; Max was growing tired of all the silence. "You have other options," Chloe said, applying concealer to Max's neck in long, steady strokes, "Like me," she whispered. Max turned to face her, only to find that she had shied away, red blooming across her cheeks.

"Chloe," she said, her voice soft and sad. Chloe refused to meet her gaze, fingers playing in the sheets, twisting and turning the fabric. "Chloe, listen, I went to that Vortex Club party last weekend, and Victoria was drunk, and we were alone, and it just sort of… happened. I can't explain it. It's not like I sought her out, it wasn't like that," Max explained, half-trembling, "Chloe, look at me."

She did, tears welling up around the corners of her wide crystalline eyes. Max brushed them away with her thumb, bringing it to rest on the older girl's chin. Taking the initiative, Max leaned forward, tilted her head, and captured Chloe's lips in her own. The kiss was tender, and firm, temperate, but unreturned. Another moment passed, and Chloe began to kiss back with a slow sort of fervor. She cupped Max's cheek, drawing her close. They deepened the kiss simultaneously, opening their mouths, embracing one another, the flame of their passion growing. Chloe was the first to pull back.

"I'm not going to let Victoria take your virginity."

"What do you mean?" Max replied, confused.

"You're about to find out."

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 **Hate to leave you guys hanging. Every review makes me more motivated to write! ;)**


	4. Cherry

**Hey, the following chapter contains smut so continue at your own risk**

 **I do not own Life is Strange nor any of its Affiliates**

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"I'm not going to let Victoria take your virginity."

"What do you mean?" Max replied, half-aware of the answer already.

"You're about to find out."

And with that, Chloe drew her black tank top over her head and tossed it aside. Max propped herself up on her elbows, reclined on Chloe's bed, watching, aghast, letting her eyes trail up the V of her exposed hip bones, to her taut stomach, ribs, supple cleave, finally settling on the older girl's blushing face. She wore a confident, albeit unsure, expression.

Chloe sidled up to the edge of the bed, pressing it with her knees before she began to crawl, hands on either side of Max's feet, then legs, then shoulders. Glaring down at a very surprised Max, she looked fierce, hot with desire. With subtle grace, Chloe dipped, capturing Max's lips in her own, lingering a moment before she pulled back. She dipped again, another kiss, this one deeper, tongue probing along Max's teeth before the younger girl opened to the ministrations with a soft sigh. Chloe withdrew, and asked:

"You're a virgin, right?"

Max nodded, looking doe-eyed as she met Chloe's almost predatory gaze. There was something behind the older girl's stare - something implacable, but savage, as though she was analyzing prey moments away from becoming a meal. Max briefly thought back to Victoria's warning, but as quickly as it came, the thought vanished. So suffused in the sweet honey haze of lust, her mind blanked. She opened her mouth to speak but cried out instead as Chloe's fingers met her sensitive delta, pressing against the fabric of her jeans.

With a single deft movement, Chloe unbuttoned them and pinched the zipper. Max's hand found Chloe's, gripping it tight. Everything was happening so fast. She needed to continue with a clear head, she knew, and if that wasn't possible she knew she couldn't continue at all. Speaking in a timid voice, Max said:

"Wait."

\- and Chloe stopped, shuddering to a halt. She looked down at Max, pausing so the younger girl could speak, but the words never came. Hesitantly, Max guided Chloe's hand deeper, down past her waistline and into her pants. If things were to progress, they would progress on her terms, not Chloe's. Her fingers brushed cloth, and she began to press, lightly at first, with growing pressure. Max began to squirm, a soft " _Ah,_ " escaping her lips. Chloe deepened her fingers, Max arching against them until full contact was made. She jerked her hips, encouraging Chloe; she continued to stroke.

Max had pleasured herself once or twice before, but this was something else entirely. Chloe was adept, sure of herself, and so, so tender. Max could feel herself approaching climax, a burning coil in her lower abdomen which twitched and compressed, tighter and tighter. " _Ah,_ " she moaned, " _Chloe._ " And then she was convulsing, writhing, struggling against the older girl's fingers as she reached satisfaction, her legs shaking all the way down to her feet. Max tossed her head back, groaning in sweet relief. Her thoughts were scattered like the stars that filled her eyes, tiny fireworks behind the darkness of her closed lids. When she opened them again, Chloe was smirking. She tugged at the hem of Max's jeans.

"We're not done just yet."

* * *

Max knew she would remember her first cigarette.

The smoke felt strange in her lungs - it wasn't awful, but a little dizzying. As she exhaled, a steady stream of pale white mist dissipated above her, joined by Chloe's own. The older girl lied beside her, a hand beneath her head. They both stared up at the ceiling, not a word between them; that was not to say the silence wasn't comfortable. A question lingered on Max's mind, and she soon asked it:

"Were you and Rachel…?"

"Girlfriend and girlfriend? Kind of, it's more complicated than that," Chloe replied, taking a drag from her cigarette; its ash lengthened, and she tapped it into an empty beer bottle on her bedside table. "We were kind of on and off fuck-buddies if you will, but best friends too. I guess that's why that thing with Frank really bothered me."

"Huh," was all Max could say. She assumed as much. Her hand found the left side of her neck, and the fresh hickey that resided there. "You really shouldn't have given me this," she began as Chloe looked over to see what exactly she was referring to.

"Need to let Victoria know she's got competition, is all. Are you planning to see her again?" Chloe asked, a hint of trepidation in her tone.

"I don't make plans," replied Max, clueless on how to answer her friend's question. If Victoria continued to make advances (Max was positive she would), she couldn't predict how she'd react. Though her and Chloe had just escalated their relationship, they hadn't confirmed anything official. Chloe wasn't fond of titles, Max found, and Max enjoyed leading the single life. She wanted the freedom to see who she wanted to see, even if that person was a bully like Victoria, but thought better to voice it around Chloe; she might be angered at a sleight to her pride.

Pulling herself up into a sitting position, Max drew the cigarette from her mouth, pinching it between forefinger and thumb. She took a short drag, fought back a cough and rotated to face Chloe, still comfortably reclined. She soon climbed to her elbows, taking her cigarette and placing the cherry against the flat of her exposed tongue.

"Chloe what the fuck are you doing!" Max yelled, breath hitching in her throat.

"I'm a badass Max, deal with it," Chloe grinned, baring her sharp incisors. "There's enough saliva on your tongue to extinguish the ember before it burns you, Maximillion." She laughed, repeating her gesture for a second time. "You should try it." Max lifted her own cigarette, eyes on its glowing tip. Hesitantly, she tapped it against her tongue, tasting the salt of the ash, but not much else. "You're hella badass," said Chloe, "Didn't think you'd do it." They lied like that for another hour, until they heard Joyce pulling into the driveway.

"Quick! Put your clothes on!" Chloe sprang to her feet, found her bra, pants and shirt, and quickly redressed herself as Max did the same. "God we smell like smoke," she muttered to no one in particular. Max pulled on her shirt, lifted her pants, and tossed her short brown hair. She quickly checked her appearance in a mirror, wiping traces of lipstick from the edges of her open mouth. Chloe replaced her beanie last, moving up behind Max as she laced her arms around her waist. "Might want to cover up your new hickey, Mickey."

"Shit!"

Max dashed to find the white eyeshadow, finding it on Chloe's desk. She could hear Joyce coming up the stairs, one slow step at a time. "I'll head her off," Chloe said, walking towards the door. She opened it and went out into the hallway, leaving Max to apply the shadow to her dark, purpling bruise. Hearing Chloe and Joyce conversing in the hallway, Max quickly dabbed the shadow with beige concealer before it had even dried. Not entirely pleased with the result, she went to join Chloe.

"Hi Joyce," she began, smiling.

"Oh hello Max," Joyce replied in her slight southern drawl. "I had no idea you were here. Will you be staying for dinner?" She asked, her tone politely inviting. Max shook her head 'no', shrugging her small shoulders.

"I have homework that I have to do. There's this project for photography class that I haven't even begun to start working on, so I have to get back. It's good to see you though, you keep a lovely house as a-always," Max rushed, stammering a bit. She inwardly prayed that Joyce didn't look at the hasty makeup job on the left side of her neck, turning her head in hopes of hiding it. If Joyce noticed, her warm expression belied it.

"Well it's nice to see you regardless," she said. "Next time you talk to your parents, tell them I said hello." Joyce left in the direction of her bedroom, leaving Chloe and Max alone.

"I'll see you out, m'loser," Chloe said, bowing slightly. They made their way down the stairs, out into the foyer and through the front door, finding Chloe's truck the way they left it. "Listen up Max, I don't care who you see, even though Victoria's the biggest fucking bitch I've ever known, besides myself. But now that I've stolen your V card-"

"I'd like to think that I handed it over in a civil transaction," Max interjected.

"-now that I've jacked your V card, I kind of feel better about the whole situation. I'm glad that she won't have the honor of sharing that special, once-in-a-lifetime experience with you. That experience belongs to me, your best friend slash soul mate. Though I was pretty pissed off when you first told me about things, I know that you're mature enough to make your own decisions, and I can't stop you, as much as I'd want to."

"It's good that you're not angry at me anymore. You kind of had a right to be."

"Hells yeah I did."

Both Max and Chloe shared a laugh. And their drive back to Blackwell was rich with good-natured conversation.

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 **Reward me for my good work ethic and leave a review ;)**


	5. Unclaimed

**Here's the next chapter - drama ensues. I hope you'll read into the symbolism and foreshadowing that I've scattered about**

 **I do not own Life is Strange nor any of its Affiliates, nor do I own any song by Bright Eyes or L &Ms**

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Max handed her ID and a crisp ten dollar bill over to the stocky brunette behind the cash register; she received five dollars and seventy five cents back, as well as a package of L&M reds. She couldn't say what it was that inspired her to purchase her own cigarettes, but the prospect of smoking again titillated her. She left the convenience store out into the street, taking a seat on the curb.

She pulled the package from her pocket, removed the plastic, and drew a cigarette from the box; with a lighter she borrowed from Chloe (black, red, skull motif), she 'flicked her bic' and lit the tip, inhaling. The ember grew into a sizable cherry, from which she pulled in one long drag. Pale wisps of smoke danced up into the mid-afternoon air as a memory was evoked: skin on skin, teeth on teeth, the synchronization of body on body. And the smell of Chloe's blue hair. And her smile. A bit enamored, Max took another drag and hid a private grin.

The bus wouldn't arrive for another ten or so minutes, so Max stretched her legs out into the street, the first drops of a rainfall wetting the cement in small circlets. She felt one grace her neck, then next her bare arms. Max continued to smoke as the rain slowly began to pick up, savoring the sensation of rain on her skin: _drop… drop drop… drop._ The cigarette half-exhausted, Max took one last inhale, then dropped it, snuffing the ember beneath her foot. She took cover beneath an awning as drizzle turned to torrent. Before too long, the bus pulled up along the street, and Max dashed from beneath her cover to its door. The trip back was uneventful as she put in her earphones.

 _If you walk away, I'll walk away. First tell me which road you will take. I don't want to risk our paths crossing one day, so you walk that way, I'll walk this way._ It was a Bright Eyes melody, one of Max's favorites. It was a song about the end of things, and the pain of parting. Conor Oberst was her favorite lyricist; he had a way of conveying powerful themes with simple words, she had found. _And the future hangs over our heads. And it moves with each current event. Until it falls all around like a cold steady rain, just stay in when it's looking this way._

They passed the Two Whales Diner, other establishments, clottings of trees, hillocks and cliffs, winding down the road toward Blackwell Academy. Max watched as rain sped along the window, coagulating and dividing into larger and smaller droplets. One drop met another, and split, then met another, and split. There was no way of divining each droplet's path, no rhyme nor reason to any one movement. Max thought of Victoria, and Chloe. She sunk into her seat.

An hour later found Max inside her dorm room, pondering over how to complete her photography project. She had changed into her blue chicklet shirt and sweatpants, which folded beneath her as she sat on her patterned bed comforter, looking over pictures she had taken of her classmates and friends. She drew from her pile an older picture, one of Chloe sitting on the bench out by the lighthouse at sunset; it was just before the snow, she remembered. She pulled another from the stack, the one of Victoria looking displeased which she had snapped several days ago.

But which to use?

Max considered the various aspects of Chloe's picture. You could draw several conclusions about the photograph. It might convey aspects of loneliness, or solitude, or even betrayal. It could convey the absence of another person, or the presence of the person already there. It had depth, and complexity. The contrast between light and dark drew the eye. Max lifted the other picture to her face, the one of Victoria's displeasure at being photographed. It was plain, too plain, one-dimensional even. It lacked the visual noise of the other picture. Max didn't like it as much. Deciding on Chloe's photograph, she slid it into her backpack as a knock sounded at her door. _Knock knock knock knock._ One knock was terse; two was universally acknowledged as the average number of knocks; three wasn't out of the ordinary; four was strange. Already half-sure of her visitor, Max opened the door to reveal:

"Victoria."

"I've come to help you with your project," she explained, more cordially than Max was expecting. "I'm sure you'll want to take pictures of me, and I've already decided my aspect: sexuality." The younger girl took a step back, allowing Victoria to enter her room; she hadn't thought to tidy up, and quickly moved to fix her strewn sheets and cluttered desk. In truth she had predicted what aspect Victoria had chosen for herself. Her flirtations towards Mr. Jefferson were no secret, after all, and if she wanted to convey the wiles of her body for the teacher's viewing pleasure (or disdain), she had no real objections. Max decided to keep the fact that she had already chosen a photograph for her project to herself.

Victoria had certainly come prepared: she wore a low cut crimson blouse that bared the slightest sliver of midriff, and tight, tight designer jeans. Her angular collarbone and thin valley of cleavage on display, she looked the very image of youthful potency. Walking toward the windowsill, Victoria took a seat against it, crossing her long, slender legs. "You've done a good job of covering up that hickey," she said. Max's heart skipped, unsteady. "I'd have preferred if you left it bare. I'm proud of my work." She leased a small sigh of relief, grateful that Victoria wasn't referring to the newest addition to her neck.

"Let's have you looking down, but keep your head in place," Max instructed. Victoria obliged, her eyes downcast, lashes fluttering. "Open your mouth a bit." She centered the picture: in it, Victoria leaned, legs crossed, a demure expression on her lowered face. She had sex appeal, Max had to give her that, and in the pose it was subtly downplayed. _SNAP_ , went Max's camera, spitting out the photograph a second later. "Alright, let's have you turn towards the window and look right, over your shoulder. Raise your hips a bit. Y'know," Max began, "If you're focusing on my innocence, and I'm focusing on your sexuality, Mr. Jefferson is going to get pretty damn suspicious, I'd think."

"Let him be suspicious." Victoria grinned. _SNAP._ Another picture.

"I thought you kind of had a thing for him."

"He's the hottest teacher I've ever had, easily. And he needs to have a star pupil, so I thought I'd use my feminine charms to influence that decision. Is it immoral to seduce your considerably older mentor? I honestly don't care."

"Has he been receptive to your advances?" Max queried, already knowing the answer.

"It's hard to tell."

Victoria leaned, crossing her legs again. A smirk played across her fairy-like features, pulling at her heart-shaped lips. "Do you have a boner for Mark as well?" The question caught Max off guard, and she struggled with the answer.

"I don't think I'm really into guys."

"Not even Warren? I've seen the way he humps your leg."

"Gross," Max spat, furrowing her brow. She raised the camera, _SNAP,_ taking another picture before Victoria's smile had time to fade. "He's a nice guy, and we share a sense of humor, kind of, but yeah, never gonna happen. He's too persistent, which I'm not sure I like. Every day he's blowing up my phone with texts. What about Nathan?"

"Nathan's a prick," Victoria replied, scowling.

"Amen to that."

"Hold up."

Victoria crossed the room in four long strides, moving towards Max. Her scowl hadn't left her face as she brought it up to Max's neck, running a finger along its left side. Her finger came away browned with beige. She stared at it a moment before meeting Max's worried gaze. "Oh my fucking god, I can't believe it." Backing Max up against the door, she prodded her chest. Hard. "I knew you'd fuck that degenerate," Victoria growled, "Even after I claimed you."

" _Claimed_ me!?" Max bit back, "You can't claim someone Victoria! I don't fucking belong to you. I don't belong to Chloe. I don't belong to anyone." She pushed herself from the door, pressing Victoria back across the room, step by step. "Get this through your head: you don't own me. You might own Taylor, and all your other fake friends, but you don't own me, Victoria Chase." Max could read the shock on her face. "And you can't intimidate me."

Victoria was speechless.

"From now on," Max continued, "things are going to go how _I_ say they're going to go. Got it!?" Victoria nodded, swallowing back her words. Max enjoyed the feeling of her newfound dominance. It made her hot, and wanting. She stepped forward, caught the older girl by her blonde hair, and forced her downwards to meet her mouth. Max bit her bottom lip, catching it firm beneath her teeth. Victoria yelped as blood was drawn, and Max pulled back. "Now get the fuck out of my room."

Victoria did as she was told, slamming the door behind her.

Silence.

Max brought her hand to her lips, drawing back to find red stained across her fingertips. Was she too harsh? Still high on her power play, Max couldn't find it in herself to honestly care. She found her camera on her desk and leveled it with her head, grinning as she took a selfie. The photograph developed as she waved it about. When she looked at the final image, her smile only grew. She looked different; fierce and on fire, bloodied and bold. It was a good look, she decided.

Max found the three pictures she had taken of Victoria. Delighting in the act, she took the first two photographs, pinched their tops beneath her fingers, and tore them into separate pieces. " _Claimed_ me," she muttered, bitter. Max hesitated upon seeing the third. In it, Victoria wore an unabashed smile, captured in a raw, expressive moment. She looked genuinely friendly. A wave of guilt suffused Max, and she frowned. Saving the photograph, she placed it in her binder along with Chloe's. The decision would have to be made later.

Leaving her dorm room, she descended the staircase and left out into the courtyard. Samuel was sitting on a bench, dropping crumbs; they were eagerly snatched up by a skittish squirrel, who took a circumspect route to avoid the maintenance worker's legs. Max remembered what he said about spirit animals. She could see hers being a doe. Walking out into the parking lot, she spotted Warren, sitting on the hood of his car as he stared down at his phone.

"Hey Warren," Max projected from across the lot.

He glanced up, and upon seeing his new company, smiled. "Maxter," he began, "It's always a pleasure." Warren slid from his hood and went for a hug, which Max couldn't help but to accept, albeit reluctantly. She withdrew, and situated herself on the hood beside Warren. He glanced upwards with a wistful look, wordless. "S'good to see you, always a pleasure."

Max dug in her pocket for her pack of cigarettes and from that, pulled one, which she lit. Warren blinked, but didn't say anything, no doubt for fear of coming off 'uncool', or so Max believed. She looked above her, into the bruised sky as afternoon gave to evening.

"I've been making a lot of unhealthy decisions lately."

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 **And so another chapter concludes. Reviews are what keep me going ;)**


	6. Contrast

**Apologies for the delay, I had a busy yesterday. Hope you enjoy!**

 **I do not own Life is Strange, nor do I own Marlboro**

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As much as she was loathe to admit it, Max now nurtured an addiction to cigarettes. She inwardly cursed Chloe every time she smoked, standing outside in fair and ugly weather. Often times, Warren would join her; she had found that he had taken up smoking as well, at 'coincidentally' the same time. She didn't care much for his company, and only payed the loosest attention as he praised whatever science fiction movie had caught his interest that week. Regardless, it was better than smoking alone.

Victoria had been avoiding her. Max had caught the tail ends of her comings and goings. She would enter her room as Max was leaving hers, or leave her room as Max entered her own. They made eye contact once or twice, but it was fleeting. In one instance, Max met Victoria as she was leaving the bathroom. Both had flinched away, avoiding each others gaze as they shimmied back and forth to pass each other. Eventually, Victoria shouldered Max out of her way and stomped down the hall with scarce a look back.

They might as well have not shared a photography class at all, as the project's due date approached. Max wondered if Victoria would still use the photographs she had taken of her: the ones of her half-reclined on the bed, a strapless shoulder turned toward the camera. Her mind wandered back to her own picture, that of Victoria smiling without restraint in a moment of soft vulnerability. It was a pleasant snapshot, and conveyed an aspect of the blonde that her other classmates didn't often see. Then again, she also had the photograph of Chloe sitting on the bench by the lighthouse, her back beside the setting sun. Deliberating which to use, Max was drawn sharply back to reality when Mr. Jefferson asked her a question:

"Max, what were Richard Avedon's defining characteristics as a photographer?" He drew a hand across his trimmed beard and along the sharp cut of his jaw; regardless of Max's sexual preference, she had to admit that he was attractive. She could see how he appealed to Victoria, all mature, and wisened. "Max?"

"He took celebrity portraits mostly, and had a good grasp on black and white contrast," Max replied, articulating her response. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Victoria scowl, tapping the notes on her desk with her pen. Mr. Jefferson gave a sage nod of his handsome head, adjusting the glasses on the bridge of his nose.

"You're correct Max. Moving on…"

Max slumped in her seat, crossing her legs and arms as she leaned back. Tuning out her teacher, her mind turned back to the project. The aspect Victoria's picture showed wasn't sexuality, as she intended, but kindness. Vulnerability, even. Her clothes aside, she came off as childish, her smile unprompted by the photographer. There was no _Cheese!_ involved. She couldn't remember the joke that was said; had it been about Warren? Probably. A deep, distant roar of thunder broke her revelry as the first few droplets of the coming rainfall sped down the classroom window. Max watched as Victoria turned to look outside, her expression wistful.

Class ended soon afterwards. Victoria left without so much as a goodbye, even to Mr. Jefferson, who stood by his desk shuffling papers. Max approached him, pulling photographs from her binder. "Mr. Jefferson?" she voiced, a bit timid, though that was not to say he was unapproachable. "I've taken some pictures for the project and I've narrowed my selection down to two. I thought I'd ask your opinion on the matter."

He gave a good-natured smile, taking the two photographs offered. From behind his glasses, his dark eyes scanned the first, then second picture, before returning to the first. "I've never seen Victoria look so relaxed; she's a tense person by nature. You truly have a gift for capturing rare moments, Max. And who's this?" Mr. Jefferson asked, referencing Chloe's picture. He held it up for Max's inspection, and she soon replied:

"That's my friend Chloe, she used to go here. Maybe you remember her?"

"Ah, Chloe. There isn't a staff member here who doesn't remember Chloe. Anyway, it's another good shot. Nice use of light and dark. What aspect did you have in mind for this one?"

"The poignancy of thought. Or maybe loneliness," Max said, unsure of her response. She still hadn't settled on an aspect for the picture. It was so subject to interpretation that it could've gone any one of a hundred different ways.

"In that regard, it has poetic depth. You should chase that complexity in future pictures. If you do, you'll really come into yourself as a photographer. You show a lot of promise Max, I just wish you'd submit a piece to the Everyday Heroes contest. I think you'd have a shot." Mr. Jefferson returned the two photographs. "If I had to say - and mind you this is just my own personal opinion and won't reflect on how I grade your final project - I would choose the one of Victoria. But that's only because I know the kind of person she is. For pure composition, I'd choose the one of Chloe. Ultimately it falls to you, Max."

She nodded, replacing the pictures in her binder. "Thank you Mr. Jefferson. Have a good evening." He returned her pleasantry, and she left in the direction of the girls' dormitory.

* * *

It was deep into evening when Max finished typing her paper for AP English. It was a rhetorical analysis on a commercial she had found on youtube, one of Michelin tires. She read through its paragraphs again, editing here and there, formatting, typing new sentences and removing others. Though she wasn't the most adept writer in her class, Max was proud of her work, and soon pressed the 'print' button, moving to collect the physical copy from beneath her desk. She stapled the pages together and placed them in her bag, before collecting her pack of cigarettes and lighter. With that, she left out into the humid late day air.

The wide banner of sky above her seemed dipped in rich dye, a dark blue contrasting pepperings of white; grey clouds hung motionless and damp, the remnants of the passed storm. The ground was wet as Max walked, the yard devoid of her peers where it had been busy during the afternoon. Pendulating pines loomed in the background, covering mountains and their smaller brethren, the hillocks. It was calm, and quiet: as an evening should be. All the squirrels and chipmunks had returned to their dens for the night. All the birds had gone to rest.

Max made her way toward the parking lot, finding a short curb to sit on. Her knees high in front of her, she straightened a leg and withdrew her pack of cigarettes, and from that, removed a cigarette. She placed it between her lips and lit the end, dragging it into a serviceable cherry. A long exhale followed a long inhale, and a long inhale preluded a long exhale. A silvery dancer shuddered, disappearing a moment later. She pulled out her phone and texted Chloe: 'Sleepover at your place?' A moment later Chloe replied: ';)'. Max laughed, replying: 'I'll be waiting in the parking lot' - to which Chloe texted back: 'Be there in ten.' Max felt the sweet-honey haze of the 'buzz' suffuse her, and she sighed, enjoying the melt.

"Max?"

And just like that, the high vanished. Unsure of who it was, Max got to her feet, hiding the cigarette behind her. Mr. Jefferson stood adjacent beside his car, looking down at her from the curb. His smile was a shade dark, his features more so. The shadows made him look intimidating, nothing like his warm, mentorly self. "You smell like smoke," he said, frowning, and Max prepared herself for the coming lecture. But the lecture never came. Instead, Mr. Jefferson outstretched a hand, motioning a bit.

With a groan of consternation, Max gave him her pack. Recently, rewinding had given her headaches, and it just wasn't worth it. He opened the carton, withdrew a cigarette, and placed it in his mouth, then pulled a white lighter from his pocket and lit its flame.

"I never burn my own if I can bum one," he murmured, taking a drag. Max blinked, taken off guard. She thought it a very humanizing moment for Mark Jefferson. More comfortable in his presence, she relaxed. "You're probably wondering why I'm out here so late. I'm wondering the same thing. Principal Wells is still giving me a lot of grief over Kate. 'You should've known something was wrong,' he keeps telling me, and he's right, I should've." Max recalled the altercation between him and the blameless christian girl she was witness to. "You did a heroic thing, up on that rooftop. You saved a life, which is more than I can say for myself." Drag. "Max," puff, "you have so much potential. But I've seen young photographers more promising than yourself squander _everything_. You now find yourself at a crossroads. The fork is your self-doubt. Will you submit a picture to the Everyday Heroes contest? Or won't you-"

"I will," Max replied before he had even finished speaking. She wanted to believe herself. Mr. Jefferson didn't reply. He only leaned against his car and looked off into the stratosphere, his mind a million miles away. "I wanted to ask you a personal question. I need some advice." He nodded. "I'm interested in two different people. One I've known for a long time, since I was a kid, and the other I met relatively recently. The first is rash, a real fighter, and she's loyal, but can be defensive and rude. The other is outwardly mean, and quick to anger, but she's got a good heart. I don't know who to choose, if I should even choose either."

Mr. Jefferson furrowed his brow, "I shouldn't be advising you on matters of the heart. But since it's after school, and we're two adults, I guess I can give it a shot." He snuffed out his cigarette beneath his heel and drew a pack of Marlboro golds from within his coat. He withdrew one and lit it. "Posing for a picture is an intimate action. You give a piece of yourself to the photographer: a moment taken, a moment given." Mr. Jefferson took a long drag, and paused for what seemed like forever. "That's my question. And answer. Who would you have take your moment - who would you give it to?"

The headlights of Chloe's truck swept the empty parking lot as she pulled up to Blackwell Academy. She drove around and parked by Mr. Jefferson's car, honking once. "Have a good night, Max. I'll see you tomorrow in class." Max replied in kind as he stepped into his car, and, shortly, maneuvered out, driving away. Still thinking about his advice, Max swiveled to the open window of Chloe's truck, leaning against the frame. _Who would you have take your moment - and who would you give it to?_

* * *

 **And so concludes another chapter. Reviews are very, very appreciated ;)**


	7. Frightened Doe

**The second to last chapter in Kingdom Came - its ending soon folks!**

 **I do not own Life is Strange nor any of its Affiliates, nor do I own any Bright Eyes song**

* * *

Max rose, arching her back as she stretched her hands high above her mussed brown hair. She held her waist in place, turning right and left - _crack, crack_ \- and laced her fingers together, pushing them forward for another satisfying _crack._ She rubbed the sand from her unfocused eyes, yawning. The smell of breakfast wafted from the kitchen below, strong in the bedroom despite distance.

Chloe still dozed, comfortable beneath her sheets. Her blue locks were splayed against her pillow in a messy pool, which shifted as she turned in the final moments of a half-dream. Max dipped to meet her lips, kissing them softly. Chloe's eyes fluttered open, soft with sleep. She returned the kiss, lifting a palm to meet Max's cheek. The morning light swept the room with its golden fingers as it filtered through the blinds. The muted din of birdsong could be heard.

"Hello," Max said.

"Buenos deez-nuts," Chloe replied, and soon they were giggling together. Chloe propped herself up on her elbows. "What time is it?" she asked, to which Max responded by showing her her illuminated phone screen. "It's time for us to go back to sleep." Chloe pulled at Max's shoulders, hugging her tightly; all the while Max squirmed, laughing. She dragged her down to the bed and began to kiss her again.

"As much as I love your morning breath, we have to get up. Joyce is making us breakfast," Max said into Chloe's mouth as she smiled. "I know it's gross but I'm going to have to use your toothbrush, Chloe Price." Chloe gave a dutiful nod, then sat up, swinging her bare legs off the side of the bed. She rose to her feet in search of clothes, which she soon found scattered on the floor.

Max gathered her own shirt and pants and checked her appearance in the mirror. She smoothed down her hair and straightened out her top. Chloe sidled up behind her, lacing her forearms around Max's hips. She nipped at her neck. "The hickeys are just starting to fade, Chloe, don't you fucking dare." Max swatted Chloe's face away, and nearly jumped out of her socks as an enormous bumble bee appeared from nowhere.

It buzzed in the air, unwitting to the horror of Max and Chloe as they shot across the room, yelling obscenities. "Fuck! Max! Kill it!" Max shook her head and gave a vehement _NO_ , to which Chloe replied, "Fucking kill it Max! Be the hero you were born to be!" They gasped, dodging the bee as it sped toward them. "Ah! Holy shit run!" They darted back and forth, bouncing off each other. "Open the window!"

"It'll only let in other bees!"

"Good thinking Max!" Chloe shouted, still in panic mode. She jumped across her bed and found a stack of papers on her desk, which she promptly rolled into a makeshift weapon. "We've got to end this, right here, right now. If I don't mark my territory, this bee will spread the word to other bees that my room is the newest chill spot." Chloe ducked and dodged as the harmless bee buzzed along, clueless to the two girls avoiding it. It landed on a poster.

"Give me a sheet of paper!" Max commanded; Chloe soon handed her a piece. The younger girl moved to the poster, wedging the paper beneath the bees legs. It soon crawled on, and Max lowered the page to the window sill. She opened the window, slid the bee out, and quickly pressed it shut. The tension in the room dissolved. Chloe wrapped Max in a hug.

"I was so scared," she murmured, "You saved us. What can I ever do to repay you."

"You can suck my dick," Max replied, and they both burst into laughter. "Let's go downstairs, Joyce is waiting for us." Wrapping an arm around Max, both her and Chloe exited the room and descended the staircase to where Joyce was waiting, a hand on her hip.

* * *

Victoria ran, her face toward the cold Fall sky above. She dashed across rocks and down a steep dirt trail, her chest heaving beneath a grey tank top darkened with sweat. All around her trees sped by in shades of pine-needle green and bark brown. A frightened fawn dipped back into the undergrowth as the blonde passed, turning to watch as she jogged by. The pleasant din of birdsong was drowned out by music from a pair of earphones.

 _Squatters made a mural of a Mexican girl, with fifteen cans of spray paint and a chemical swirl, she's standing in the ashes at the end of the world, four winds blowing through her hair._ Still running, Victoria leveled her phone with her eyes, switching the song. Bright Eyes had only served to remind her of that waif hipster Max Caulfield. The image of her bloodied mouth still burned like a flame in her roiling mind. She had been so aggressive, so uncharacteristically _dominant._ At the time it scared her, but in retrospect it was kind of…

Victoria shook her head, ridding herself of unwanted thoughts. She had moved on from the experience; it had faded behind her like a speed limit sign in her rearview mirror, holding her back. She didn't need another hindrance. She just needed to finish the school year without acknowledging Max; the prospect seemed unlikely. In her heart of hearts, she still harbored inklings (of inklings) of feelings for the younger girl; beyond that, she admired her work most among her other classmates.

Shaking her head again, Victoria continued to jog. The trail beneath her began to wind, signaling her proximity to Blackwell Academy. Within a minute, the school came into view, and the town beyond it soon followed. She watched with detached interest as insect-like cars entered and exited the parking lot, then turned her attention to the distant coast. Waves bullied the beaten shore, one after the other in unrelenting succession. In ten minutes time, Victoria had made her way down to Blackwell. She slowed to a walk, moving in the direction of the girls dormitory. She arrived after a small time, ascended the staircase, and stopped by her door.

'Meet me in my room at 4. We need to talk. - Max' her whiteboard read. Victoria glanced at her phone: it was half past. She briefly wondered if she should take a shower first, but decided against it. Why should she bother to look her best? She had no one to impress, certainly not Max. She steeled her resolve and walked over to Max's door, knocking four times. There was a panicked moment in which Victoria took a step back, unsure of herself. She was allotted no time to leave however, because the door opened shortly afterward.

"Hey," Max said, looking up at her with wide, doe eyes innocent of any wrong.

"H-hey," Victoria stammered. She soon assumed her cold indifference, spitting, "What the fuck do you want?" She looked away so Max couldn't see her pained expression. The younger girl fidgeted a bit, then moved from the doorway. She motioned for Victoria to come in, and the blonde obliged. Victoria looked around the room: her eyes scanned the wall of photographs, Max's cluttered desk, and the hillocks of clothes scattered against the walls. Max made a pitiful attempt to clean up before turning to Victoria.

"First and foremost, I wanted to apologize Victoria. I shouldn't have," Max gave a nervous laugh, "bit you, and been such a bitch. That's not the kind of person that I want to be, especially not to you. Believe it or not I regard you as a friend," she paused, "and I treasure our friendship." Victoria avoided her eyes, glancing down. Her clothes were plastered to her bare, slick cleavage and collar bones, drawing Max's attention for a moment. "Anyway," she continued, "that's all I wanted to say to you. I'd understand if you wanted nothing to do with me anymore, I kind of deserve it."

"Yeah, you do," Victoria shot back, her tone unyielding in its harshness. "You're so two-faced Max. One second you're shy, and the next you fucking attack me like some kind of wild animal! I have no idea what to think. Because… because…" Tears welled up around the corners of Victoria's hurt blue eyes. "Because I have feelings for you Max."

"Victoria, I…" Max began, but fell short. The guilt she felt burned in her chest, turning her words to ash. She knew her indecisiveness would eventually lead to someone getting hurt, it was only a matter of 'when'. And that 'when' had arrived, the impact shaking Max to the core. Should she accept Victoria's feelings, and spurn Chloe? Or should she disregard Victoria's words and run to the arms of her childhood friend? Max knew that Victoria had it within her to change, but could she be the one to change her? She suddenly recalled Mr. Jefferson's words:

 _Who would you have take your moment - who would you give it to?_

Max thought of the photographs, of Victoria's smile and Chloe's solitude. In the course of a split-second, she knew what she was going to do. What she _had_ to do. "Victoria," she whispered, her voice growing, "I'm not the one for you. I thought we could've been something, but it's clear we aren't compatible. You're too you, and I'm too me for this to work." Tears ran freely down Victoria's cheeks. "I can't love you."

* * *

 **And so ends a dramatic chapter - Max's decision has been made. I cherish every review ;)**


	8. Everyday Heroes

**Here it is: the final chapter. Enjoy :)**

 **I do not own Life is Strange nor any of its Affiliates**

* * *

"Today you'll all submit your aspect projects," Mr. Jefferson began, "or so I hope. I'm sure each and every one of you put a lot of thought into your photographs. It was a simple enough prompt, and I'm positive I'll enjoy grading your individual work as objectively as I can. Please make a decent pile on my desk as you leave."

Max leaned, her hand on her chin. She watched as Mr. Jefferson began his daily lecture, only half-tuned to his endless stream of buzzwords: contrast this, lighting that. She found herself paying less and less attention as the school year progressed. _Perhaps this is what they call senioritis,_ Max thought, _If so I'm mortally afflicted._ Max glanced from peer to peer, her scan transient. With some hesitation, she turned to face Victoria, who she found was looking back at her. Her heart skipped a beat upon seeing the older girl's bitter, burning expression. She had an inkling that she wasn't out of the forest yet in regards to the whole love triangle situation, and that she'd be arguing with the blonde again sometime soon.

Now that she had rejected Victoria, Max had noticed her shooting angry glances more and more often. When they met each other in the hallway, the blonde was always just a notch below fuming. She wasn't avoiding Max like before, but Max kind of wished she would have the decency to. They hadn't talked since the incident in her room; Max recalled the memory in an unpleasant daydream, remembering the betrayed look Victoria gave as she openly cried, and the sound of the door as it slammed behind her. Had she made the right decision? Max thought so, though she had her doubts. _If I had only worked on her some more, I could've gotten through to her._ There was no use in 'what ifs' Max rationalized, and turned her mind to something else.

She turned her head and looked out the window. The day was coming down slow, light blues darkening in the afternoon pull. Not daring to check the clock (for fear of slowing time), Max felt a small suspicion that she had a long day ahead of her. She had planned to meet Chloe after school, and was looking forward to the excuse to see her childhood friend again. Were they dating? They had never made it official, so the issue was up in the air. Max decided that she'd like to date Chloe, exclusively. Max suspected that Chloe likely wanted the same thing. Now that she had made a decision, the future never seemed so clear.

An hour later, Max was dragged back to reality as Mr. Jefferson ended his lecture. She couldn't believe just how long she had dozed, and internally scolded herself for doing so. Max stood, collecting her things, then deposited them in her bag. She made her way across the room in a beeline for the door, halting only when Mr. Jefferson said, "Max, a word." She nodded her head, waiting for her teacher to finish speaking with Kate. The air between them was still tense: that, she could feel. As Kate left, Mr. Jefferson turned his attention to Max. "Today's the last day to submit a photo to the Everyday Heroes contest."

Max rifled through her bag, withdrawing her chosen photograph. She handed it to Mr. Jefferson, who inspected the work with a raised eyebrow. "So you chose the picture of Chloe you showed me. I'm a little surprised, but still impressed. It's good work, you definitely have a shot," he voiced, still looking at the square. Max had deliberated over what to submit for her aspect project much longer than she had for the Everyday Heroes one, and had finally settled on the photograph of Victoria she had taken; in it, her head was dipped, an unabashed smile playing at her lips. It was how Max wanted to remember her, instead of the snarling bitch she had returned to being.

Max left the classroom out into the hallway, and left the hallway out into the courtyard. She crossed the courtyard and reached the parking lot just in time for Chloe's truck to pull up. Chloe leaned out the window, waving her hand, before she exited the car and met Max halfway, pulling the younger girl into a warm hug. They held the embrace for longer than socially appropriate before pulling back. When they did, Max removed her cigarettes from her pocket and placed one in her mouth, lighting it up. She offered one to Chloe, who graciously accepted.

"Pleasure to see you Maxamillion. You want to hit up the Two Whales? Or should we chill at my place?" Chloe asked, grinning a cattish grin. Max smiled back, a bit enamored with the older girl. Before she had a chance to respond…

"Excuse me?" Victoria said, her voice raised like the hackles of a threatened cat. She stood, one hand on her hip as she looked at the both of them. Max recognized her expression of betrayal; it was familiar to her now. "Max, we need to talk. Tell your degenerate friend to give us a minute," Victoria growled, hardly acknowledging Chloe at all. The look on the bluenette's face scarcely looked human.

"No, excuse me you raging bitch," Chloe shot back, dragging from her cigarette. She exhaled the smoke in Victoria's face. "Max could honestly give a fuck about what you have to say to her. So go find a dick to sit on," she said, clearly provoking an argument. Max took a step back, unsure of what to say or who to side with. On one hand, she could humor Victoria if she just wanted to talk, but the fact that she insulted Chloe made her grit her teeth.

"Why don't you blow me, _Price_."

"Why don't you go blow Nathan, _Chase_."

Victoria cringed, shaking her head. "Shut the fuck up, you don't know shit about anything. I'm going to talk with Max whether you like it or not, so back off, slut." Victoria pushed Chloe's shoulder. Max blinked. The birds stopped singing. The stream stopped warbling. The sun hid behind a passing cloud. Chloe pushed Victoria back. Hard. She stumbled, almost tripping over her foot before she regained her balance. She then threw a right hook, which Victoria ducked. They slapped at each other, suddenly a tangle of limbs. Max watched as each girl grabbed the other's hair, ripping and tearing and shaking from side to side.

"ENOUGH!" Max shouted, and both Chloe and Victoria stopped to face her.

"No, I've had enough!" Victoria yelled back. "Max, you're coming with me." She moved to grab Max's wrist, but Max slapped her hand away.

"Listen up, Victoria. We're done. I don't want to talk to you. Ever again. So leave me and Chloe alone. Goodbye," Max spat, her brow furrowed and shoulders raised. Both Chloe and Victoria shared a look of surprise, before the latter stomped off, humiliated. They watched as she left, pushing an unsuspecting freshman out of the way as she did so. The harmless boy tripped and fell in Victoria's wake.

"Huh," was all Chloe could manage, following Victoria's retreating figure. She slammed the door to the girl's dormitory loud enough that they could hear it from the parking lot. "That was all kinds of badass, Max. You've done a good thing today," she said, crossing her arms.

Max nodded. It was time for her to move on.

"Let's go," she said. And they did, holding hands as the sun began to set.

* * *

 **And so ends Kingdom Came. I hope you enjoyed the story, I'll be writing more in the future. I appreciate every review. Thanks ;)**


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